Into the Woods
by Khajiit
Summary: Grissom and Brass are called to a cabin in the north to investigate the a brutal attack on a naturalist at a cabin. Attacker unknown... They find more than they bargained for...


Disclaimer- Not my characters, yada yadda, completely made up, blah blah, Jerry Bruckheimer etc.

C.S.I.: Into the Woods

Chapter 1

Grissom and Brass stepped onto the rickety porch of a log cabin in the middle of the Northern woods. They peered apprehensively through the open door into the house, not really wanting to see what was inside. They treaded carefully up the porch steps. An expected whiff of copper came to their noses. Brass brought an old bandana to his face to block the smell.

"Well, isn't this a pretty sight." He said, his voice muffled from the cloth. They looked in upon the room they had been called out to investigate. It wasn't a pretty sight. The wooden paneled room was completely ransacked. Tables and chairs were overturned, papers and books were everywhere, and blood covered the walls and floor. It was as if someone had been interrupted in a frivolous search.

Brass was looking at the blood and the objects strewn across the room, but Grissom seemed to be looking through it, trying to see beyond the chaos and disorder.

"The victim's at the hospital now getting a blood transfusion," Brass said, eyeing the blood with an expression of familiarly. "He had some pretty deep lacerations across his chest. What do you think did it, Gil?"

"Not sure Jim," Grissom said, looking over at the wall with one of his eyebrows raised. "Didn't you say that the 911 call had barking and snarling noises on it?"

"Uh...yeah," Brass said, taking his eyes away from the blood and searching through his pockets, clenching his bandana in his teeth. He took out a folded piece of paper. "The operator asked for the emergency, but only got a rasping noise and snarling at the other end. Why? You think a wolf or bear did this?"

"There are marks on the wall that could be from claws, but it's too early to tell. Can you leave for a minute?" the other said, picking up his evidence case. "I need to be alone with the room."

"Sure, but you know that you're suppose to have an officer on the premises at all times." Brass said, grinning at Grissom through his bandana.

"Then be on the premises outside," Grissom said impatiently. "Come on Jim, I've got work to do."

"Alright. I'll be around." Brass turned around and tiptoed out the door, avoiding the debris scattered around the floor.

The Grissom sighed and took a camera out of his bag. He took pictures of all of the disturbances in the room and took blood samples, but he kept glancing at the scratch marks on the wall as if they were calling to him. Finally, when he could no longer stand it, he stepped carefully over the chairs and papers to the wall with the peculiar scratches on it. Something was wrong, but he couldn't place it. He dug out his camera out of his bag again and took pictures of the blood spattered wall.

He glanced something out of the corner of his eye as the flash went off on his camera. He looked over where he had seen the little silver glint in his peripheral vision, but he couldn't see anything. He clicked the camera again, still looking at the ghost of the glint. It happened again. Abandoning the query of scratches, he once again made his way across the room, not taking his eye off the spot where he had seen sparkle.

He finally got to his spot, nearly tripping over a broken lamp in his haste. He looked down to where he had almost fell, and saw a sharp object sticking out of the wooden floor, tip down. He sighed again. "Jim, get in here!" He heard a scrambling outside. A second later, Brass came striding through the doorway with his hand toward his gun.

"What?" he said, still glancing around the room.

"Radio dispatch." Grissom said, pulling an evidence bag from his case. "Get them to block off a ten mile radius around this house. Don't let anyone out of the perimeter."

"What did you find?" Brass asked, looking more serious than when he had come striding through the door.

"This wasn't a bear or wolf," Grissom said, putting the blood stained object into the bag gingerly. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't believe that wild animals know how to handle a knife."


End file.
